Shadows Don't Cast Shadows
by Cicatrix6
Summary: For years Kakashi had been trying to hide from the light. Whenever he dared to face it, his shadow hid behind him. One day he understood what the light had been telling him all along: having a shadow didn't make him one, and from then on he knew he could never evade the light again. Three-shot. [one-sided KakaMina; MinaKushi; KakaNaru]


**A/N: This is a sister-fic to my one-shot "Consensual Reflection", and it has been on my mind (and on my computer) for AGES. I got the idea after watching an interview with Lady Gaga where she said "If you don't have any shadows, you're not standing in the light". I did some more brainstorming while listening to "Schatten werfen keine Schatten" by Tocotronic (hence the title), and I decided to write a little story around it. I had originally planned to write a one-shot, but today I realized that dividing the story into three parts ****would make more sense**. Enjoy! (and be ready to pull Kakashi into a biiiig hug. He really needs one.)

* * *

**I**

**Little Scarecrow, what have you done? **

* * *

Kakashi's right leg had fallen asleep, leaving him with the uncomfortable tingling sensation of pins and needles that was urging him to readjust his position. He complied, standing up and awkwardly joggling the tired limb to relieve the pressure in his arteries, but the strange tingling only intensified when his leg woke up. It felt heavy, and he idly wondered whether it was about to petrify as if to fit in with the memorial stones surrounding him.

He inhaled the last whiffs of December air, realizing that the temperature had dropped notably since his arrival several hours ago. The light of his lantern had already gone out. Not that it mattered. All he had to do was either light it up or simply close his eyes to see all he needed to see. He decided upon the latter option and saw his father's blood-drenched body on their living room floor, Obito crushed beneath that large bolder and Rin with a hole the size of his hand in her chest.

A tremor flitted through him, and he damned the noisy chattering of his teeth for disturbing the tranquil atmosphere of this place. He looked down at the ground. The thick layer of snow that covered the graveyard like an enormous fluffy blanket had entirely tucked his boots beneath it, and the youngest flakes fell into his gray hair as if to color it white, only to melt away as soon as they realized that they weren't a permanent dye. He tightly hugged his shivering body and waited for a while until he acclimated himself to the frosty night, listening to the soft wind that swept through delicate branches and against his face as he tried to comprehend its unintelligible whispers. Maybe it wanted him to leave and let the spirits slumber in peace, he thought as it became harsher within a few moments.

What was he even doing here? He had paid a visit to his father, Obito and Rin, and he had no intention of seeing anyone else. There was no reason for him to remain out here in the freezing cold. Then why did his legs refuse to take him back?

Ignoring the wind's exhortation, he considered staying here until dawn as he looked up into the sky. It was still too dark for him to predict how long it would be until then, but patience was one of his finer qualities, and if he waited here long enough, he could eventually witness the purple, red and orange rays of sunlight give the monochromatic world a motley hue.

So he sat cross-legged on the snowy mattress with his back cushioned by the memorial stone. His body had already gone numb. Not that it mattered. All he had to do was either stand up and increase his circulation or simply close his eyes to feel all he needed to feel. Once again he decided upon the latter option and felt his father's anguish, Obito's torment and Rin's sorrow as their shadows firmly snaked around him, fusing with his skin until their pain was his, until their pain was engraved into the lines on his palms.

The wind's temper had cooled, and he wondered whether he now had its tacit consent to abide.

* * *

Kushina tilted her head back and laughed at whatever joke Jirayia-sama just made. Her shrilling, juvenile laughter could have caused glass to break, and Kakashi silently hoped for it to be a window so he could escape from the suffocating environment he was caged in. He looked up at the dining room ceiling, which, in his mind, appeared to slope down by ten inches every second, threatening to collapse altogether. Hearing all these guffaws and jabbers and nonsensical conversational remarks was utterly exhausting, and the vivacious enthusiasm emanating from Kushina seemed to latch onto his energy, greedily sucking away what was left of it. He stared at the clock.

Ever since the death of his father five years ago, Minato invited him to spend Ōmisoka with his wife and him at their house with the well-meant intention to cheer him up. The sequence of the event had become routine: Minato would pick him up around seven and together they would walk to the warmly decorated Namikaze residence. When Kushina opened the door, Minato always greeted her with a pleasant "Tadaima", and she would smile before turning to Kakashi to affectionately pinch his masked cheek. Then she would wrap her arms around Minato and kiss him for exactly three seconds before saying, "Okaeri". A little blush would spread across his face, and he would chuckle and lay an arm around Kakashi to lead him inside the house. They would sit at the table and talk about the day's happenings until Jirayia-sama rang the bell at quarter to eight. The other guests soon followed, and by nine o'clock everyone was gathered in the dining room, eating, talking and laughing, and Kakashi would quietly sit by the table and observe them. He didn't like to eat in front of other people, he wasn't interested in talking to anyone and he certainly didn't have any reason to laugh at silly jokes when he was mourning the deaths of his precious people.

What was he even doing here?

Jirayia-sama vigorously waggled his newest book in the air, proudly telling Kushina and the two other women next to him about how good a read this novel was and that he had three signed copies with him to give away. Kushina faked an appalled reaction and playfully smacked the Sannin's arm before turning her attention to the brunette lady who was sitting beside her.

"Oh, Kushina, you really make the most delicious toshikoshi soba!" the brunette praised. She eyed his untouched bowl of noodles and gave him a look that said, "_Dear boy, aren't you going to eat that?!"_

He watched someone hand over the sashimi platter, then glanced at the plate beside his bowl. Kushina had been typically generous and had dumped an undesirably large portion of tempura mackerel on his plate. He _hated_ tempura. He had been over their place every so often, and Minato had repeatedly reminded Kushina not to make tempura when he came over, and she always forgot, but he would always eat it to be polite because she was sensei's wife and sensei loved her more than he would ever love him, and he _hated_ Kushina for that! He never dared to show it, of course, so he would courteously submit himself to her cooking. But not today! He wouldn't eat that disgusting, salty, greasy battered fish today, or ever again!

He hoped that his mask would cover his irritation, but Kushina leaned over to him and whispered in his ear, "Have some fun, Kakashi-chan!" and pinched his cheek the way she always did, but this time her action was accompanied by a slightly quizzical look in her eyes.

It was so unnerving to sit this close to her when the tension between them was intensifying with every second that passed. He wondered whether Kushina could feel it too. She was strange. One moment she seemed to be oblivious of his discomfort around her, and the next moment she appeared to see right through him.

_Did she know?_

Avoiding her gaze, his eyes wandered to the pictures on the wall he was facing. Most of them documented jolly moments between Minato and Kushina, and he avoided looking at them. However, there were two other pictures that always caught his attention when he was here: one showed Jirayia-sama with his arm around Minato holding up his jounin certificate, and the other one, right next to it, showed Minato with his arm around Kakashi holding up his jounin certificate. Minato had the same proud smile as Jirayia-sama, but what was even funnier to him was that even _he_ was smiling when that picture was taken. That day was fixed permanently in his memory. He had felt so happy then, so happy he had made Minato proud, so happy Minato was standing next to him, pulling him close to him, so happy to be granted the responsibilities of being a jounin, so happy to be as strong as Minato, so happy he could smile –

_"TRASH!"_

– only to regret everything a day later.

His sharingan eye started to throb. He felt small and weak and useless and for Kami-sama's sake, _what was he even doing here in this place?! In this world?!_

Minato walked over to the table and sat down next to Kushina, his eyes wandering from the food platter to her hair. "Love, your hair is as red as this lobster!" he remarked, laughing, and kissed her cheek. She laughed too and was joined by everyone else at the table but Kakashi. That didn't seem to bother anyone – they were used to his saturnine temperament and hardly anyone overtly questioned it. Those few who did never got a satisfying justification for his antisocial behavior because he never told anyone but Minato how he felt. But at times like these, he wondered whether even Minato truly understood him, when the man was clearly unaware of the fact that staying here with him _and Kushina_ was pure torture to Kakashi. At times like these, he wondered whether the opposite of 'good' was 'well-meant'.

Agitated to the point of nausea, he looked up at the dining room ceiling once again, which, in his mind, was starting to shatter.

He pushed back his chair and stood up, then sauntered quietly past Kushina and the others, relieved that nobody seemed to care about his retreat.

When he reached the second floor hallway, he walked over to the window at the end of the corridor. One lamp was on, but thankfully, there was no sign of anyone else. He let out a sigh of relief. It was so much calmer up here than in the dining room, though the noises were still ringing in his ear. He covered his ears until he could hear nothing but the rushing of his blood that sounded like the soft murmurs of the ocean, and he felt like he was drowning in it, choking; the ocean was so very wet and he tightly shut his eyes because it hurt to keep them open under the salty water…

He blinked and wiped away the tears that had made their way down his cheek. Pathetic. All he could do was cry like a helpless child; he was but a pathetic, helpless little crying child that was alone, wanted to be alone, didn't want to be alone…

_But he wasn't alone_, he reminded himself as he turned around and faced his shadow. It was always there with him, it stuck to him like a spider to its web; it reflected him more accurately than any mirror ever could. It was tall and thin and haggard and _looked just like him_ because _he_ was a shadow too, a shadow that had merely evolved in its shape and could cast a shadow of its own.

His trembling fingers opened the window, and he tapped away the snow on the pane. Then he jumped.

* * *

Kakashi awoke with a start as the experiences of his shadow clone bolted through his mind like lightning, and he wondered whether he would ever get used to the after-effects of this jutsu. It was funny how people desired to be at different places at the same time, when those who were granted that privileged but used it for the wrong reasons were usually beset with an uncanny feeling of guilt.

Shadow clones were very beneficial on stealth missions and the sort, but there really was no sense in sending them to places one would rather not attend, or have them do things one would rather avoid, because as soon as the jutsu was dispelled, the user would feel as if they had been there anyway. He almost snorted. His clone had actually done what he had always been too cowardly to do: it had refused to eat the tempura Kushina had prepared, and had jumped out of the window when nobody suspected him to do so. Did they notice it by now? Did Minato notice that he was gone? Did Minato even care? Did _Kakashi_ even deserve to be cared for?!

He had berated his father for abandoning a crucial mission for the sake of saving his comrades because he had failed to understand the reason for his father's actions. He had berated Obito for refusing to submit to the ninja code without questioning it because he had failed to understand why Obito saw his father as a hero. And when he finally did understand his father's and Obito's ninja way, it was too late. Obito had died, and soon after that, Kakashi failed to keep his promise and protect Rin. He was nothing but a failure, a miserable piece of trash waiting to be thrown away.

The wind roared, and he took that as a final sign for him to leave. There really was no point in staying here until dawn because he knew the light would never reach him. His world would remain as dark as his shadow because he knew he didn't deserve to see the light.

* * *

The most fascinating thing about the dark was that you practically became invisible, invisible to the world around you and even to yourself. People closed their eyes when they wanted the world to go away, and very young children covered their eyes when they didn't want to be seen. Maybe the dark reminded them of being in their mother's womb that had been their safest shelter. The first pain newborn babies had to face was the horrible light piercing their eyes, and it was that light that triggered a feeling of vulnerability they had never felt before.

Why did people desire to see the light when it was something they instinctively feared?

Kakashi pushed the bathroom door open and stepped in. When he switched on the light, he cast a glance at his reflection in the mirror before turning around to face his shadow, which reflected him more accurately than any mirror ever could. It was tall and thin and haggard and _looked just like him_ because _he_ was a shadow too, and it was time for them to seek the place where the light would never reach them again.

He slipped his hand into his weapon pouch and pulled out a kunai. His trembling fingers closed around it, and without hesitating, he thrust it into his chest. Then he screamed.

The pain was unbearable. When he started coughing out slimy clumps of blood, his legs refused to support his weight any longer, and his body collapsed on the cold floor. When he felt tears rolling down his cheek, his hands refused to wipe them away, and his eyes felt like they were staring at a dirty window. He was choking, and all he could do was cry like a helpless child; he was but a pathetic, helpless little crying child that was alone, wanted to be alone, didn't want to be alone…

_But he wasn't alone_, he reminded himself and clung to his shadow, enduring the seething agony that pulsated through him. His shadow was always there with him; even now it stuck to him like a spider to its web. Soon, the lights would go out and his shadow would die with him…

He closed his eyes and listened to the voices in his head.

_"I'm sorry, son…"_

His father stretched a hand towards him which he accepted mechanically, but grasping it was impossible, for it was just a shadow, gray as dirt, and that haunting silhouette wrapped itself around his wrist.

_"PROTECT RIN!"_

Obito's hands grabbed his; it shouldn't have hurt so much when they, too, were just part of a shadow that forcefully tried to prevent him from hurting anyone. But when Rin's shadow appeared in front of him, he could feel how chakra concentrated in his hand, and performed the Chidori against his will, trying to pierce the girl's chest with it, but failing because she was already gone.

They were shadows because they had given him their skin, and he would feel their pain forever.

Laughter filled his mind, the horrible, shrilling, juvenile laughter of Kushina that could have caused glass to break, and he could see her slowly approaching him. She knelt forward and pinched his cheek, then slapped it and slammed her fist against his face.

"HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME?! YOU FOOLISH CHILD, HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME HATE YOU?!"

He helplessly fell to the ground on his back, unable to roll over and turn away from the painfully bright light. He was forced to face it – perhaps one last time.

_As long as you cast a shadow, you cannot hide from me._

A part of the sky suddenly transformed into an enormous mirror that reflected him – _them – _and the rest let the purple, red and orange rays of sunlight give the monochromatic world a motley hue.

* * *

**A/N: Just to make this clear: I love Kushina and I feel really bad for making her seem so unlikeable, but keep in mind that this is written from Kakashi's POV, and he just happens to be in love with Minato. Jealousy can turn people into hateful creatures :D **

******Part II will probably be online soon (I actually already finished writing the rest of the story but there are still some things I would like to change).**


End file.
